


Me And The Devil

by deadjerkk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dark, Horror, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Supernatural Elements, gothic horror, i really don't know how to tag this without spoiling things, leaving some tags out for plot reasons, very early halloween fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadjerkk/pseuds/deadjerkk
Summary: "The woods are lovely, dark and deep,But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep."-Robert FrostThor is a police officer who finds himself a bit too interested in the mysterious man living in the woods.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcOaN2rS-aF6MsW4KQCD53e9vlhgvqXEW) of songs I listened to while I wrote this.

A heavy arc of tree branches hangs overhead, their leaves blocking the sunlight, and coating the path in an eternal shade. It grows darker further into the forest, the dirt path turning less well-worn. It isn't enough to be a danger to Thor's horse, but the added bumps and divets slow them. Thor doesn't know how long he's been riding for, he had tracked the sun when he began but now he can't tell where it is, the hazy light not coming from any one particular direction. Time is fragile here, and Thor has already lost touch with it, he's careful not to lose track of direction too.

Thor is a police officer, sent to investigate odd sounds coming from near an abandoned house in the woods. There are rumors of disappearances too, but Thor hardly believes them. Due to being unable to prove anyone specific has gone missing the stories are no more than old ghost tales, and Thor is not afraid of ghosts. He already knows the culprit is either wild animals or squatters in the building. Normally he wouldn't bother with something this foolish but being the single man who isn't too afraid could garner him the promotion to sheriff that he's been vying for.

Something crashes to the right, sending the horse rearing up. Thor grabs the reins tightly to no avail. Bucking and making panicked noises, the horse kicks up and sends Thor flying off with a lurch he feels in his bones.

He lands on his back, the impact knocking the air out of him and his head hitting the hard dirt. The following snapping of branches and dry thuds force him to look up, to search for his horse. Everything is blurry, he's seeing double. Trying to sit shoots a sick wave through his stomach, sending him back onto the ground. He can almost make out something, a tall shape, between the waving branches in the direction his horse had fled. Foggy, indiscernible, a frightening silhouette behind the trees. It grows more distorted, darker, and farther away.

* * *

Consciousness returns to Thor slowly, painfully, in an overwhelming rush of sensation as he pushes himself up on his hands.

The smell of evergreens and damp air, the ground hard and dry beneath him. A thin, wispy branch drags across his cheek. It's darker now, the light cast through the branches is a deep orange, either dusk or dawn – Thor's sense of time is entirely gone.

His head protests sitting, wanting to drag him back down in pain. The throbbing pulses all through his body, making him draw crescents in his palms with his fingernails. He forces his legs to move, thankfully nothing seems broken, only sore.

A cool breeze wafts through the trees. The air is muggy, heavy with imminent rain. A quick scan of the area shows no sign of his horse. Gingerly pushing himself to his feet, Thor shuts his eyes to fight back the pain shooting from his skull.

The sound of thunder breaks somewhere in the distance, to the north. He could walk back, but the trek would likely be over four hours, and directly into the storm. His only option is to press forward and hope whoever is squatting in the abandoned house will take pity on him and let him rest.

Every step is laced with pain, pulsating from head to toe. The forest is still darkening, signaling night. Thor finds relief in knowing he had only been out a couple hours. But the dark brings another concern with it. The frightening shadow. There haven't been any other animals in the forest, only the occasional chirping of birds. It could have been a tree bent from being trampled or hitting his head could have been making him see things. It was too distant and dark to tell. It had appeared vaguely human, but there was something wrong with it. Instinctively Thor reaches for his gun, checking to be sure it's still in the holster on his belt.

The dirt path grows increasingly muddled. Branches and leaves crunch under Thor's boots. The thunder grows closer and the beginning drizzle is starting to drip onto the back of his neck.

It's only a few more minutes before the trees clear abruptly to reveal a swath of overgrown garden, sprawling vines over a mess of hedges and the mossy remains of a stone fountain.

A dark stone monstrosity lies beyond it, rising up three floors with sweeping black-framed windows and moss growing up the walls. It looks mostly intact, albeit lacking in beauty due to decay. Thor swallows his pain and stomps a path through the garden, crunching thorny vines beneath his feet. The unlocked door creaks open with only a light push, its rusted hinges making a grinding sound.

Inside looks nearly immaculate. The rust and rot on the outside of the door doesn't translate to the inner walls. The wallpaper is new, dark with lighter grey stripes. Elegant damask curtains drape over the windows, none of the fabric showing even the beginnings of sun-bleaching. The furniture looks occasionally used, with only the faintest hint of dust dotting the shelves. There is no damage to anything either, nothing to indicate unruly squatters or youths using the house as a party location, which only serves to unnerve Thor even more.

The hallway leading out from the room is dark since none of the house's outer windows lead into it. There are three doors, and one wide opening leading to a spiral staircase. Thor listens carefully, searching for the sound of footsteps, but the patter of rain starting to pour is the only noise. He opens the door to his right, across from the stairs, and behind it lays a kitchen. The large window to the back of the room allows in enough light for Thor to discern a wood-burning stove and cooking supplies atop the counter. He opens the nearest cabinet. Upon discovering only cutlery and plates, he begins to open the next one, when he is interrupted by the sharp clack of shoes against wood.

His hand goes to his gun. The sound is coming from the top of the stairs, languid, slow steps. They might not even know he's here. He keeps a firm grip on his holster, ready to pull the gun out within a second if he must.

Bracing himself for whatever he might find out there, he turns towards the open kitchen door, out into the hall.

"It's impolite to enter without knocking you know," a sharp voice calls.

The man is standing a few feet away, a couple steps from the bottom of the stairs. His long dark hair cascades down to just below his shoulders, accentuating pale skin and a sharp bone structure. He's tall but lithe, standing in an elegant, poised way. There is something otherworldly about him, his bright green eyes are almost glowing.

Thor’s gaze follows down the dark silky fabric of the man's loose button-shirt to his hands, he's unarmed, but yet doesn't seem nervous. Thor looks lower – tight leather pants, tight boots laced up to his knees, no place for any concealed weapons. He lets his hand fall away from his gun.

"What are you doing here?" the man's words are pointed and he takes one more step down the stairs, closer.

"I sought shelter from the storm. I thought the house was abandoned. I did not mean to intrude, my apologies." Thor can hear the cracking thunder outside, the stormy wind beats against the mansion's windows now.

The man hums a nonchalant little noise, nodding. He looks over Thor with curiosity, suspicion, and almost a hint of amusement.

"Who are you?" Thor asks, straightening his back under the man's scrutiny.

The man's lips curl up slightly, mockingly. "I should be the one asking you that, seeing as you're the one that's entered my home uninvited."

"Fair enough," Thor says. "I'm Thor,"

"Loki," the man takes a step closer, and Thor automatically goes for the gun again. But Loki only steps past him and into the hall to put them on even ground.

Loki is smaller than him, only a couple inches shorter but much thinner compared to Thor's large frame. Again, Thor lets go of the gun, letting it rest in its holster. Loki, seeming to pay no mind to Thor's reoccurring contemplations about shooting him, continues.

"So, Thor, what brings you all the way out here?"

That is the question Thor was dreading, because telling a possible serial killer that you need to search their house isn’t a bright idea. Loki seems perceptive too, and Thor decides to stick as close to the truth as possible.

"There’s rumors in my town about strange things in these woods, I came to check out the wolves or whatever was terrifying the children," he leaves out that it's terrified much more than children and that he was specifically asked to investigate the house.

Loki regards him with an expression he can't decipher.

"You walked all the way here to look for some wolves?" Loki's eyes narrow.

"I had a horse, but the storm must have frightened him. He knocked me off about half a mile back," Thor instinctively rubs the back of his head, where it had taken the brunt of the force from the fall.

Loki regards him with something a bit more akin to sympathy now. "That must have hurt," he says, appearing to accept Thor's story. "The rain doesn't seem to be letting up, would you like to stay for dinner? I was just about to prepare something."

Thor is far from feeling hungry with his pounding head, but he knows it's best to stay with Loki. There's something odd about the house, something so heavy in the air it's almost palpable. He knows it's in his best interest to keep Loki where he can shoot him.

Just because the house is occupied won't prevent his investigation. If the horrific noises the villagers have heard and things they've seen came from here, he should keep his wits about.

"That's kind of you," Thor smiles politely.

Loki turns into the kitchen. "The dining hall is the next room over,"

Thor nods, starting in the direction of the door.

"Leave the gun in the hall," Loki calls after him in a voice that says, _'my house, my rules'_.

While Thor doesn't trust Loki, it is for sensible reasons that Loki also doesn't trust him. He reluctantly leaves the gun on a shelf in the hall.

The dining room is elaborate. A large table with a freshly pressed white tablecloth, a candlelit chandelier overhead. The wallpaper and curtains match the other rooms, draping the place in luxury. Thor seats himself at the head of the table, resting his head in his hands while he waits. The throbbing slowly subsides to something manageable with a moment shut eye.

Loki brings in the meal as the final bit of sun slips away for the night, leaving the chandelier as the only light. In the dim glow Thor can see it's a thick soup, laden with vegetables and meat, still in a big pot to ladle out. Loki exits again then re-emerges moments later with bowls. He sits beside Thor in the closest seat rather than opposite him.

Leaning closer, Loki ladles out his own serving with delicate fingers curled around the oversized spoon. Up close Thor can see how timeless the man looks, his sharp cheekbones, perfectly placed hair, silky collar and sleeves just so. The blue of the veins on his wrists is strikingly vibrant through porcelain skin.

Loki's eyes flicker up to him, he hands Thor the ladle.

"I figured I should show I'm not trying to poison you," Loki's voice is smooth and silky, it sends a shiver up Thor's spine.

"Thank you," Thor replies awkwardly.

Loki let's out a tiny breathy laugh, reclining back into his upholstered chair.

Thor can see pieces of vegetables, carrots, broccoli, maybe asparagus, and some white meat, when he fills his own bowl. As he eats, it’s difficult to ignore Loki's gaze on him. The feeling like burning on the side of his face, like Loki can see right through him. He focuses on the taste of the food as a distraction, fresh and warm, it’s better than most of what he’s eaten lately.

"So, Thor," Loki says. He's running his spoon through his own mostly empty bowl like he’s deep in thought. Thor braces himself for a difficult question. "Is the soup any good?" Loki asks.

Looking up, Thor is unable to stop the brief questioning expression from crossing his features.

"It’s excellent. Thank you very much," he says politely.

Loki smiles back, equally restrained, equally polite, mimicking Thor.

With a mental reminder that he is supposed to be investigating, Thor thinks back to strategy through a sip of his dinner.

"Is the house yours?" he asks, like he’s trying to make casual conversation.

"It was my mother's, she left it to me when she passed," Loki frowns a little at the thought. "I couldn't make it down from London for a while though, and I'm all alone here so I haven't had the time to fix up the garden yet,"

Thor nods sympathetically. He’s uncertain if the story true but there's nothing to indicate Loki is lying either.

"It’s a lovely place," Thor placates.

"Inside, outsides a shithole," Loki grins.

"It has character," Thor laughs.

Loki's smile crinkles his eyes, revealing both wrinkles and flawless pearly white teeth.

Only a few more mouthfuls remain before Thor finishes his soup and when he does Loki's stare is lighter than it had been previously. Thor supposes the initial judgement was fair, if Loki's story was true, he had just wandered into the man's private home.

Loki stacks their bowls on top of each other, then he leans his chin into his palms to stare up at Thor. Something catches his attention. He reaches out before Thor can pull back, and his thumb finds its way to ghost over Thor's cheek.

"Looks like you took a hit,"

Thor flinches sharply at the pressure on top of the injury. "I took a few hits to the head when I got thrown off my horse. Don't worry it'll sort itself out."

Loki nods, taking the signal to draw back his touch.

"I can show you upstairs if you want to bathe or get some rest?"

Thor takes Loki up on the offer and follows him up the winding staircase.

The steps creak nearly every time Thor puts a foot down. The only light is the flickering candle Loki holds in front of them, casting strange moving shadows about. The second-floor hallway is long, ending in a large arching doorway. They don't walk all the way down though. Loki opens the second door on the left that they pass.

The bedroom is brighter than the hall, with colorless moonlight spilling in through tall windows on either side of the bed. The bed is large, king sized, with a hanging canopy. Ruffley pillows and elegant lace at the edges of the duvet, made for show, not for comfort. A layer of dust hangs in the air that didn't downstairs. It's almost a relief to Thor, the house not being immaculate, it soothes his worry about there being anyone other than Loki to worry about.

Loki uses his candle to light the candelabra on the room's dresser. Silver with three candles and a thick handle, it provides a decent amount of light. "You can sleep here for the night. The bathroom is directly across the hall."

Thor nods. "Thank you."

He takes in the room a bit more. Beside the dresser there sits a chair that he will likely prop under the doorknob for security while he sleeps.

"While I would prefer you don't wander my house you are welcome to use the library at the end of the hall should you wish," Loki's eyes trace over him, up and down, and then he takes his leave, closing the door most of the way behind him.

Thor stays in place, listening as Loki's footsteps travel down the hall and then seemingly up the stairs to the third floor. Only once he’s heard no movement for a few minutes does he reach for the candelabra on the dresser.

The door creaks as he pushes it open wider. Holding the light out ahead of his body, he peers around. Then, seeing nothing of concern, he steps fully out of the room. He opens the door across the hall halfway. Inside is small and windowless, and he raises the candle to get a better look. A plant of some sort on the counter casts wavering viney shadows on the walls. Past that, a sink, toilet, and a white standalone bathtub that reflects Thor’s candlelight back at him.

He enters and shuts the door behind him, leaving the candelabra to rest on the counter. Where the door should have a lock there is nothing. He feels uneasy being vulnerable but being covered in dirt there is little other choice. With a turn of the handle, the bath’s faucet gives a groan of disuse and at first spits out brown, rusty water in spurts. Once it runs clear he plugs the tub and fills it halfway. Still clothed, he listens for the sounds of footsteps in the hall in case Loki or anyone else would try to catch him unawares. Nothing comes though, and the only noise remaining is the steady flow of rain outside.

Undressing slowly, he is unable to keep his eyes from darting over his shoulder after every movement. Thor doesn't believe in ghosts. He knows full well that any danger in this room would have to go through the door, but the atmosphere of the house makes him uncomfortable in a way he’s never felt before. He bathes with his eyes on the door the whole time, watching for even the slightest jiggle of the handle. There is nothing though. Always nothing. He tells himself he’s being paranoid when he redresses, and he forces his second walk across the hall to be much more confident than the first.

He could be perfectly safe here. Loki's story might check out. The reported noises could have started before he even lived here. Or they might not even be real at all. There is no proof that those that reported them weren't just hearing the whistling of wind in twisted branches or howling coyotes in the distance. Thor props the chair up against the door as a precaution anyway, just in case.

He climbs under the covers. Stiff at first, they feel as if they have never been used. It is not the most comfortable and everything smells as old as the fabric feels but he has had worse. The cool bath had helped with his headache, but a night’s sleep would do it even better.

Shutting his eyes, Thor's thoughts drift away into unconsciousness faster than he thought possible, his exhaustion taking over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is already entirely written and I'll be posting a chapter every Sunday until it's all posted.  
> Thank you for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

When he wakes its morning, the sun casting its hazy rays through the windows. Thor pulls himself to sit, the aches and pains of the day before almost entirely gone. The room is less intimidating in the light of day. The chair remains in the same place he left it, nothing indicating the door had even been touched.

Feeling more rested as he gets out of bed, he reminds himself of the reason he's here. He should look around a bit before Loki kicks him out at least.

He moves the chair back to its original place and slips into the hall as quietly as possible. The house is entirely silent, meaning Loki is likely still sleeping. Thor's footsteps creak on the old wood floors, his boots doing the opposite of keeping him quiet, but Loki is sleeping above so it should be fine, he thinks.

The bathroom is the same as the previous night, empty and simple. Thor tries the next door beside the it, only to discover it’s locked. He glances up and down the hall cautiously before approaching the other room on the same wall as the bedroom. But before he can reach out to try the knob, he hears shuffling from the end of the hall. Quiet muffled steps, and then the heavy creak of upholstery. He drops his goal of searching the other rooms in favor of checking the library.

He approaches, confidently, it is undoubtedly just Loki in there, but he can't fully banish the grain of nervousness inside.

The arch of the entryway opens to a large room. Shelves entirely packed with books climb high up to the curved skylights on a domed ceiling. There are couches and chairs about, each beside a little table providing space for a candle and a cup of tea, or for books not currently in use.

Loki is reclined on a couch in the middle of the room, his long elegant legs swung over the armrest. He is wearing some sort of silk robe instead of pants, the fabric of it pooled around his thighs to reveal pale, thinly muscled calves. His hair is loose, one hand twirling through the slight waves as the other flips a page of his book.

Thor clears his throat. "Good morning," he says.

Loki glances up from his book, he licks his lips when he looks over Thor, a slight movement Thor notices very much.

"Ah, it's nice to see you're up," Loki swings his legs gracefully down onto the floor to stand.

Loki's approach unnerves Thor a little, but he doesn't back away. Then Loki raises his hand to thumb over the cut on Thor's cheek and something about the cool touch is surprisingly tender and soothing. It's familiar though he can't quite remember how, maybe something his own mother had done, and it brings a soft warmth to his heart.

"This looks better," Loki draws his hand back and Thor finds himself longing for more of the pleasant touch. "How did you sleep?"

"Decent. You?"

"Pretty well," Loki smiles just the slightest bit.

Thor’s stomach gives a low grumble. He had hardly eaten during his journey, and his appetite was held back by pain during dinner. Now he feels starved.

"Would you like to have breakfast?"

Thor laughs a full hearty chuckle. "Lead the way," he claps Loki on the shoulder before realizing, then awkwardly draws his hand back.

The area downstairs feels more normal than the previous night as well. A heavy unease still hangs about, but it is mere wisps of what it was before, no longer so tangible in the dining room. The way the rooms look in the light of day, without flickering shadows and darkened corners, makes the house feel almost plain.

Thor chalks his nagging discomfort up to the town rumors, which he hadn't heard any proof of at night. With no evidence currently swaying in either direction, it is possible they could all be false. To entirely disprove them he would have to stay more than one night, but there is no plausible explanation he could provide Loki for that, except the truth. He must keep his guard up, revealing that he needs to investigate the inside of the house could get him kicked out fast, or Loki could put a hold on whatever is going on out here. And rumors of forest noises are not proof enough to get a warrant.

Loki brings a loaf of bread, still uncut, with a jar of dark red jam, two plates, and utensils on a large silver dining tray. He once again takes the chair closest to Thor rather than following usual etiquette. Thor picks up one plate from the tray, setting it gently in front of him, then he grabs the knife. Loki exits to return moments later with drinks.

"Another meal made to prove you're not trying to kill me," Thor comments, cutting the first slice of bread.

Loki's lips curl into mild amusement at that, which he quickly hides behind a glass of something amber.

"I live in a trash heap in the middle of the woods, I have to prove myself somehow," Loki swirls the liquid in his glass.

Thor gives a harsh chuckle. He spreads jam over his bread to make a small sandwich before watching Loki do the same.

"Will you be leaving today?" Loki asks after they’ve eaten for a few minutes.

Thor looks up from his plate, trying to gauge Loki's expression but it’s unreadable.

"Yes," Thor answers finally. "I should probably go after breakfast,"

"How are you getting back? It's a bit of a far walk, is it not?"

Thor shrugs, he’s walked farther, never alone and never without supplies, but he could do it.

Loki taps his fingers on the table in a way that makes Thor nervous.

"It's dangerous for you to walk that far," Loki says, brows furrowing like he’s deep in thought. "I have a shipment coming in five days, food and other things I need. It isn't from your town, but it could take you to somewhere that you could get safer transportation home."

"That's very nice of you," Thor is suspicious but he won't deny a chance to investigate the house further, and this is a perfect one.

"I can't have my guest dying on his way home, that wouldn't make me a very good host," Loki takes one last bite of his sandwich before pushing the plate away and shifting to get up from his chair.

His robe slips open slightly when he stands, or maybe he lets it, exposing a strip of soft, supple thigh. Thor tries to stop himself from looking, directing his gaze to a dark spot on the wallpaper. He ignores the voice in his head telling him how nice it would be to bruise and mark that pale skin. This is business, he can't sleep with Loki.

"Of course," Loki's voice is saccharine, almost like he can read Thor's mind and is mocking him. "You can always refuse. I don't mean to make you stay."

"It is a very kind offer, but I don't mean to impose," Thor offers politely, not wanting to seem too eager. In his mind, he had already accepted the second the offer was made.

"So, you'll be staying then?" Loki sees right through his words, and it makes Thor wonder what else Loki has seen through.

Thor nods, not sure what to say and not wanting to say more that could reveal his thoughts or intentions. Then, making a little noise of agreement, Loki lifts the plates back onto the tray to clear the table. The fabric of his sleeve brushes over Thor's hand, sending a little electric shiver down Thor's spine. As Loki leaves the room Thor watches his back and breathes a relieved sigh.

The sharp cry of a bird somewhere outside takes Thor's thoughts to the gardens, where he could do some exploration without it being suspicious. The gun remains on the shelf in the hall, and Thor spares it a glance when he walks past but doesn't tempt fate by touching it, he knows full well the second he does Loki is going to jump out from behind a wall and catch him.

Outside is near as silent as the house, but the breeze rustling leaves, and the distant cries of birds make it feel more natural. However the garden had looked before is lost to time. Branches crumple and give way in order for Thor to be able to find his way through it. The hedges were likely shaped at one point, possibly a directional feature, giving way to paths, or maybe they were only decorations surrounding the fountain.

Trying to see through the gaps in the greenery to the fountain, Thor cautiously steps forward. His boots cut a swath through vines and brambles to reach the patch of nightshades surrounding the damaged fountain. The aroma of the flowers is stronger this close, nearly overpowering. Walking around the flower patch Thor finds a small gap, an already trampled section, stomped out by what appears to be Loki's smaller feet. He lets his hand rest on the cool stone, feeling its rain-worn texture. Smaller flowers hang from it, wide cracks dotted with moss and other growths.

The very top part of the fountain had broken off and fallen onto the ground who knows how long ago. The same moss covers it too, and thick vines from the flowers wind over it, tying it down. It appears to have been a sculpture of a woman at one point, wearing a hood, her head turned up to the heavens.

The wind comes in a sudden gust, rustling the plants around in a way that sounds like they're whispering.

Thor turns back, following the same path through the flowers. The garden merges with the forest at the edges, the hedges and trees growing together into one. Towards the back is more broken stone, and Thor untangles one smaller piece from beneath the plants. There is a pattern to it, so worn and faded that he can hardly feel it under his fingers. It seems to be the arm of a bench as the broken edges connect to a larger piece of stone beside it. Thor puts it down as gently as possible but small stones crumble from the corners anyways. This bench alone must be over a hundred years old and Thor wonders about the age of the house. How many generations have passed through it?

He decides there is nothing relevant to find in the gardens. If they remained nearly untouched for so long, they couldn't have anything to do with the strange noises. He casts one last glance to the bench, unmoved in years before now, maybe even decades, before trekking back up to the house.

The cool atmosphere washes over Thor immediately when he steps back inside. He listens for a moment, seeking out Loki's footsteps, but cannot make out anything definite. He thinks he hears shifting on the second floor, but it is not loud enough to tell. He starts up the stairs and is slightly more than halfway up when a harsh creak above shoots out, snapping his gaze towards it.

"Just me," Loki calls.

Thor breathes in relief.

"I've been looking for you, I thought of something,"

Thor climbs up the final step to meet Loki in the hall.

"My apologies, I was out taking a look at the garden,” he says.

Loki is dressed now, wearing tight trousers that cling to his thighs, leather boots, and a proper black waistcoat over a dark green shirt. He crosses his arms over his chest. Thor thinks the green suits him.

"I was thinking since you'll be staying, you'll need something else to wear so you can wash those," he looks Thor's clothes over with a hint of disapproval in his eyes.

Thor is surprised. He doubts any of Loki's clothes will fit him, he’s much bigger and Loki seems to prefer tighter wardrobe options. And he is not wearing a silky night robe. His confusion must show because Loki smiles, amused.

"I found some older things in a closet upstairs, they're plain and old but they'll do,"

"My thanks. I appreciate it," Thor smiles.

"Don't get used to it. I only did this because I didn't want my house to stink of your sweat," Loki taps his fingers against his arm. Somehow Thor can tell the irritation is feigned.

Thor only smiles more, warmth bubbling inside him.

Loki replies with a sigh, turning his back to Thor. His boots hit the floor with elegant steps as he walks away.

"I left them in your room, do find time to change before lunch," hecalls back over his shoulder before disappearing into the library.

Thor finds himself lost in thought when he renters his room. Despite Loki's cold demeanor and scathing comments, he's deeply kind. There is something enchanting about Loki too, something difficult to ignore that drags Thor in and won't let him go.

He occupies himself with changing into the clothes Loki left him. Among them are a few pairs of plain black slacks and two button-up shirts, a faded red one and a white one that's slightly discoloured with age. Thor chooses the red one. Finally changing out of his clothes, which still have dried dirt on them and holes beginning to form at the bottoms of each pant leg, is a relief. The borrowed shirt’s fabric is stiff, unworn in a long time, if ever, and Thor has to push away the thoughts that whoever wore these clothes before is probably dead now.

He goes to the library to find Loki, planning to thank him for the clothes and see if he can find out any more about the house, only to discover Loki is no longer in there. Rather than look upstairs Thor finds himself lost in the vast collection of books. Whoever owned all these must have been beyond rich. He pulls one off the shelf, old fine paper, hand-scribed. He had never been especially fond of reading, but the antiquity and number of books in the room intrigues him. He sits on the couch Loki had been on earlier, book in hand. He could read for a moment while he waits.

Thor discovers he still isn't one for reading though and the book fails to hold his attention for long. After perhaps twenty minutes, the tiredness and remaining pain from his head injury overtake him and he drifts into sleep.

Morning fades into afternoon, then into the orange haze of early evening when Thor hears footsteps approaching. He settles his book on the little table beside the couch and pushes himself up to sit, just as Loki walks through the library's arching door.

"Do you want dinner?" Loki asks.

Thor's stomach turns with hunger. How long had he slept for? He takes in the increasing darkness of the room, finding that answers his question for him. His exhaustion must have been greater than he thought, he had missed lunch entirely.

"Oh yes, thank you," he replies.

Loki raises a single eyebrow. "You better go make it then," he says.

Thor doesn't object.

The sun sets entirely as he makes dinner, slipping the mansion into candlelit regality. He cooks a mess of meat with potatoes on the side and some stewed broccoli on top, it's far from appetizing to look at but everything is cooked correctly. With a bit less grace than Loki, Thor serves the food. Pieces of vegetable slide inelegantly around the plates as he places the tray on the table.

He can feel Loki's gaze like a living thing crawling over him as he sits down. A spider roaming down his cheeks with long slow legs. He reaches up to wipe his face like something is actually there.

"Thank you," Loki purses his lips when he picks up his fork, not exactly disgusted, but he doesn't appear happy with the food either.

Ignoring Loki's displeasure, Thor eats it regardless of appearances. The portions Loki serves have been a tad small for him, and missing lunch didn't help either, he's near ravenous. There isn’t much room between bites for conversation.

"What did you season this with?" at the end of Loki’s fork there is a small piece of meat that he gestures towards Thor with.

Season? He had just put it in the oven until the red was cooked out of it and then sprinkled some salt.

"Salt?" Thor shrugs.

A flicker of amusement shoots through Loki's expression. "That would explain the taste."

Still, Loki finishes almost all of what remains on his plate without another complaint, which Thor counts as a victory.

And Loki says goodnight after dinner. Although his words sound a tad sarcastic Thor counts it as a victory too, because now he knows Loki will be sleeping.

Thor sits up in his room, his door unbarricaded. He should wait an hour, then once Loki has likely fallen asleep, he can search the house. He had put it off the previous night because Loki could catch him and kick him out, but he has a job to do.

He fiddles with his blankets, twiddling his thumbs as the thick of night falls over the house. He ponders if he should get his gun before he searches but decides against it, Loki will notice if he moves it. Besides, there is nothing to fear. Loki is not going to kill him if he hasn’t attempted to already during many chances. And there is no such thing as ghosts. He will do a routine check of the house and then the next few days will be like a vacation.

Once the hour passes Thor lights another candle, a single one, and leaves the candelabra on the dresser as he opens the door a crack.

The hallway is empty. Ominously silent. Thor walks out without allowing time for a second thought, because Thor Odinson is not afraid of the dark.

The first door, the one he tried before, remains locked. He doesn't pay it much mind. He could ask about it since it's beside the bathroom. Maybe it's a storage closet?

He slowly approaches the next door. Something twists in his stomach when the knob begins to turn, but he pushes down his anxiousness. He swings the door open in fractions, being mindful of the noise. This room is near identical to the one he stays in, only dustier, and the curtains are drawn wide. Thor opens the drawers in the dresser, empty like he expected. There is no real reason to search here, he knows that, but he does anyways. He tells himself he’s following procedure, not that he’s putting off going to the third floor for as long as he can.

He fights the unease crawling through him when he re-enters the hall. Glaring into the dark, staring down the areas just out of reach of his candlelight, he climbs the stairs. He curses every step, every creak that could alert something to his presence. The strange atmosphere of the house is stronger up here, like it's trying to claw its way into his mind. It's palpable, something dark and sweaty and warm, hovering over him.

The light peeking out from Loki's door glares at him when he reaches the top, mocking him. There are five doors in this hall, excluding the one to Loki's room, dark and looming.

Thor tries the first one. There won't be anything here, he thinks. The knob turns with a resounding click, so loud in the stark silence of the house, and then the door opens. There are a few crates piled inside, and a grand piano in the corner by the windows. He holds his candle up by the crates, they are full of fabrics and knickknacks, likely things Loki hasn't unpacked yet. A small painting rests against the other side of them, and Thor crouches down to get a closer look. It's of an older woman with grey hair but still sharp cheekbones and vibrant eyes, Loki's mother. Feeling like he has just invaded something private, Thor steps away.

The room across the hall is next. Putting his hand on the doorknob he expects it to turn and is surprised to find it doesn't. He doesn't spend long questioning it though and tries the next one over, on the opposite side of the hall from Loki's bedroom.

This room is another bathroom, similar in size to the one downstairs, only arranged differently. There is a small cupboard against the wall by the door, Thor opens it to find nothing but extra soaps and two hair combs. The tub is freestanding in the middle of the room and the sink is a marbled basin atop a pillar. The room lacks any hiding places.

He adjusts the candle in his hand. Next.

The next door opens easily, with no sound at all, which signals frequent use. An office. A large desk sits in the middle and Thor runs his thumb over the wood – no dust. Papers rest on the desk and he bends over to get a better look. It appears to be a novel or something of the like, it strains his eyes to read with what little light the candle provides. There is a fresh inkblot fallen halfway on one of the papers and halfway dripped onto the desk. It's Loki's writing.

Then there comes a click in the hall. The sound of a doorknob turning open. Thor's heart climbs to his throat. He looks up. Holds his breath. He expects Loki's shadow standing in the doorway, but nothing is there. The yellow light still streams out from under his door.

Thor sighs in relief. It’s only a sound of the house.

He turns his focus back to the papers. The words form golden sunlight, a beach somewhere far away, a couple laying tranquil in the sand. It's a story. Thor wonders if it's what Loki dreams of, and the thought tempts him to keep reading. He stops himself from flipping the page; too worried Loki will know it's been touched.

Lifting his candle to look around the rest of the room, he notes shelves in the back, littered with full inkwells and the top one bearing a cup full of fountain pens. The chair behind the desk is well used, the patterns on the fabric have begun to wear away in the center. It makes it easy to imagine Loki working and shifting in his seat as he thinks.

The investigation is beginning to feel less like searching the house and more like exploring Loki.

Thor skims over things on the shelves. Books, blank papers, silver pens. He pulls out one of the pens which he notices has an inscription on it. ‘ _My darling Loki_ ’ it reads, and Thor wonders if it was a gift from his mother, or maybe a lover. He puts the pen back to continue to other rooms. Only two left.

Thor is relieved to find only a linen closet and another bland spare bedroom.

He stops in front of Loki's bedroom. He can hear the most minuscule of shifting inside, the rustle of blankets as Loki likely rolls over. Peaceful and calm.

_There’s no reason to be scared._

Thor sleeps easier that night. A dreamless sleep. The rooms he didn't check drift out of his thoughts as easily as the tides sway on Loki's sunny beach.


	3. Chapter 3

Thor wakes with the sun. His body is tired and sore, unrested after his late search of the house.

He is up first, having time to bathe and dress before Loki makes his way downstairs. They run into each other by the spiral staircase – Loki coming down from the third floor, Thor on the second. Thoughts of the previous night flood him, a deep, pounding worry that Loki would know he had been upstairs.

Loki regards him with a blank expression, one that Thor half expects to furrow into annoyance before he accuses Thor of being in his office. The accusation doesn't come though. Instead, Thor receives a "Good morning".

"Morning," Thor smiles.

Loki turns down the stairs, speaking to Thor without looking back when Thor follows him.

"I see you haven't taken it upon yourself to learn to make your own breakfast yet,"

Loki huffs but he cooks anyways, the smells of spices and cooking meat wafting down from the kitchen through the open dining room door. Loki first brings drinks without a word, just water, and then he sets down a plate with bacon, eggs, and a large piece of flatbread for Thor. Loki's own plate contains the same foods but in slightly smaller quantities.

"Thank you, this looks wonderful,"

"This chore is what I get for having married men in my home whose wives do all the cooking at home," Loki rolls his eyes, picking at his own food with a fork, taking small bites.

Thor gives Loki a kind of questioning expression. "I'm not married."

"You're not?" there’s something in Loki's eyes that Thor can't place.

Thor's mind goes back to the pen in Loki's office, _My darling Loki_.

"No, what about you?"

Now it’s Loki's turn to look confused. "Have you ever seen a woman here?"

"But were you ever?"

Loki regards Thor with a skeptical expression, like it’s the most idiotic question he’s ever been asked.

"Not really my taste," he shrugs obliquely, the action bordering on suggestive. "But I thought you knew that by now."

Thor's eyes widen a little at the admission, he assumed of course, but hearing it said out loud was different, to hear it stated so openly in this day and age.

"How about a man?" he asks.

Loki chuckles a little at that. "I can't marry a man, Thor. I thought even you would know that."

Thor grumbles in frustration, fucking Loki and his fucking work around way of answering questions.

"I just mean someone to spend your life with,"

Loki raises a single eyebrow. "Why the sudden curiosity about my life?" he turns the question back around.

"Why don't you want to talk about it?" Thor counters.

Loki's poised expression falters for a fraction of a second before he puts it back together. "I just don't see where this curiosity came from," his hand stretches out on the table, like he’s playing poker and revealing his cards. "Unless you're personally interested?"

Loki shifts his hand across the table, his fingertips trailing over Thor's arm, making his meaning of personally interested loud and clear. Interested in Loki.

He isn't uninterested by any means, but this is business and saying otherwise would be bad. Thor relents in his questioning, his attention turning back to the food with a grumble.

"You know," Loki drawls towards the end of their meal. "If you're staying you could help out,"

Thor meets Loki's piercing gaze.

"How so?" he asks in between mouthfuls of his flatbread.

Loki pushes his plate away, already finished despite having eaten only half as much as Thor.

"I've been thinking about cleaning up the garden, clearing out all the overgrowth."

"You want me to weed your garden for you?"

"Overhaul all of it preferably," Loki looks over Thor with judging eyes. "Its a job more suited to someone with massive muscles for brains,"

Thor imagines Loki, who while by no means small or frail is still much smaller than Thor, attempting to lift some of the heavy stones or remove whole bushes roots and all. He laughs. "You make a fair point," he agrees.

In the end, Loki concedes to help too, and they wrench up one section of the garden, leaving mostly dirt where all the vines had grown. Loki doesn't actually accomplish much of the job beyond pulling a couple of shallowly rooted weeds. Instead he sits in the shade and sips a glass of water because his skin is apparently too sensitive for the hot afternoon sun.

Thor, on the other hand, rather likes the sun. He enjoys the warmth of it beating down on his back, hot enough to work up a bit of a sweat but not unpleasant. Manual labor always satisfies him, for he believes there is rarely a greater reward than using your own two hands to accomplish something. There are other reasons Thor enjoys this labor though, work in the dirt brings a sense of familiarity, like he’s back at the family home helping Odin and Frigga.

Thor's parents had been farmers, never poor but never rich either. They had good land and enough money for a fine house. He hadn't grown up in the same splendor as Loki must have, but he had been content. With two loving parents and always more than enough to eat, he couldn't have asked for more.

He works the garden like he's at home, like he's cleaning up the mess of the last harvest in preparation of planting anew. All the tension seems to be fading from him, drifting away in the light breeze.

He doesn't mind how the morning comes and goes, stopping only for water and some of Loki's sandwiches for lunch. The sky begins to fog over with orange hues. The breeze grows colder in the lack of sunlight and he twitches.

He can feel someone watching now too. He turns back to Loki, who's sitting by the door. He has a book in his hand, but his head is tilted up, gaze meeting Thor’s. There's something breathless in his expression, like for once he's at a loss for words, and Thor doesn't have the faintest idea why, but he doesn't dislike it. Something in the moment makes it seem like speaking would shatter the feeling entirely.

Of course, Loki shatters it.

"Dinner?" he asks.

"Are you cooking?"

"Seeing as I don't want a repeat of last night I'll have to," Loki's thin fingers flick through the pages of his book before shutting the cover entirely.

The delicious scents of Loki's cooking are better than anything Thor has smelled coming from a kitchen before, although that could be because he’s starving after a long day of physical labor. He doesn't hesitate to fill his plate to the brim with meats and bread and even piles vegetables on top from the selection in the middle of the table.

The first few moments of their meal pass in silence, but Loki, who is seemingly unable to keep his mouth shut, takes it upon himself to change that.

"Tell me more about yourself," Loki says.

The words echo in Thor's head a few times, rattle around while he prolongs his answer by chewing slowly. "What do you want to know?" he asks after a moment.

"You seemed comfortable outside, what do you do for a living?"

Thor has never been much good at lying, he subverts the question instead. "That's because my parents had a farm, I worked on it most days," Thor notices a glint of suspicion in Loki's expression and turns the question around before Loki can comment. "What about your parents? What did they do?"

"I'd say that's irrelevant seeing as they're dead."

"I'm interested."

"And I'd much prefer to focus on the here and now, tell me what you do?" Loki's voice is pleasant, but he looks poisonous, and there is something angry flitting around in the deepest, darkest corners of his eyes.

Thor lacks the way with words to dodge the question again. "I'm a police officer," he answers.

Loki's lips give the faintest twitch upwards. "Don't we all love a man in uniform," he speaks in that smooth, buttery voice to covers up the bite in his words. Thor hears it though.

"Not everyone," Thor says, both to placate Loki and because he is well aware not everyone has the utmost respect for his work.

Loki snorts. "That's evident."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Thor asks in order to change the subject.

Loki stares at him with a cold intensity, then that familiar glimmer of amusement passes over his features. The expression irks Thor, makes him feel like he’s playing right into whatever game Loki is playing at the time. Like now, Thor is playing into his questioning, cognizant that Loki is messing with him at least a little but indulging it anyway.

"I don't, and you?" Loki smiles.

"None," Thor replies.

When Loki only nods in response the room falls into a silence Thor finds uncomfortable, and so he continues.

"I think I would rather have liked to have had a brother," he says.

"Why?"

"I always just felt kind of lonely when I was a kid," Thor shrugs. He hadn't thought too much about why before. It was like a simple fact, something he had always known, it would be better to have a brother. Odin, his father, had been old even when Thor was born, too old to ever do much with him, and too focused on managing the farm to ever want to.

"Me too," Loki says eventually. He looks down at his plate before Thor can meet his gaze.

Thor wants to reach across the table, take Loki's hand in his. And before he can think too much, before he can think better of it, he does. Cold skin heats nearly immediately under his warmer touch. Running his thumb over Loki's wrist in a motion meant to soothe, he gently holds Loki's hand in place. Loki's lips are parted in an 'O' shape, brows furrowed, perplexed when his gaze meets Thor's. Loki closes his mouth, then opens it again like he’s about to speak, but in the end nothing comes out.

Thor squeezes the hand beneath his gently. "I am sorry to hear that," he says, because that seems like the right thing to say. And when Loki doesn't say anything he continues. "I think you would have been a great brother."

Loki looks at him for a moment, with an expression Thor can't comprehend, like he’s not used to ever experiencing sympathy. Then he laughs. The little manic laugh is enough to surprise Thor into letting go of his hand.

"I disagree," Loki's smile bares all his teeth.

Thor can't help but grin a little too.

"Why's that?" he asks.

"I was a bit of a brat, to say the least."

Thor chuckles. "Has that changed?"

The remark earns him a lighthearted glare from Loki and then he sets back to finishing off the last bit of his meal.

After they finish and the dishes are all taken away, Thor watches the room fall darker with each candle in the chandelier that Loki puts out. He has the urge to say something, but he doesn't know what exactly.

"Thank you," he settles on. "For a wonderful meal."

He retires to his room while Loki goes upstairs. Casting a glance back to the staircase, he thinks maybe he could follow in a bit and see if either of the locked doors were left unlocked, but he decides better of it. He jams the door shut with a chair again. He isn't as worried about Loki anymore, but a strange atmosphere still hangs in the house that he can't explain. It's like something alive, reaching in and leaving muddy footprints on his soul that make him squirm.

He lets himself drift, the candles beside his bed still flickering, but he feels uneasy blowing them out and leaving himself completely in the dark. He hovers in a place between sleep and waking. The point where one can see patterns and shapes, phosphenes, wriggling beneath their eyelids.

A piercing scream shoots through the air and Thor jolts up in the bed. His vision clears, seeing shadows flickering around the room in the dark. His heart pounds in his head, thudding and pulsing. The air is dead silent, stagnant and unmoving. The sound still rings in his ears.

What was that? He had been drifting in a place between sleep and dreaming. Maybe he had dreamt it?

Seeing the chair remains in its place by the door he knows nothing can get in, but he is unable to slow his heart. He casts a glance over his shoulder, to the windows, trying to make out if there’s anything in the gardens but he finds only shapes and winding darkness.

He has to check. He needs to see if the sound had been real. Slipping on his boots and grabbing the candle beside his bed, he pushes thoughts of ghosts from his mind and searches for logical explanations instead. If it hadn't been a dream Loki could have fallen or hurt himself.

Thor shields the candle with his hand as he moves the chair and opens the door a crack. He listens. Among the sounds of wind and branches blowing against windows, scratching and scathing, he can't make out anything inside the house. Cautiously stepping out into the hall, he looks to the right before starting up the spiral stairs.

The flickering light of the candle casts strange shadows everywhere and Thor moves slowly up the steps. He holds the candle up as he reaches the top, the third floor.

Someone stands in the hall to his right. A looming black silhouette motionless in the middle of it.

Thor takes a step back with a sharp jerk. The candle slips in his hands, but he catches it just in time. When he looks back up the shape is gone.

He takes a ragged breath, stepping into the hall and casting glances back over his shoulder as he walks. _There’s nothing here_ he tells himself _it was just the light_.

He watches the long shadows that stretch over the walls, moving and wavering. Only a few steps away from Loki's door, he can see the faint yellow light shining out beneath it.

He doesn't bother to knock. He tries the knob and finds it yields.

The room is bathed in pale moonlight, the curtains drawn wide. 

Loki lays in the center of the bed. He's on his side, blankets strewn about, the comforter halfway off the bed. His robe is untied and hiked up, exposing one thigh and his calves. His pretty lips are parted, hair tumbling in waves against the mattress. He's hauntingly pale in the moonlight. Creamy, unmarked, perfect skin.

It's like the devil put him here to be tempting. To seduce Thor without even trying, make Thor want him, desire all of him – and Thor does want him.

It stirs something deep in Thor, something he can't quite describe, beyond arousal, beyond desire. It's an aching like his heart wants to push through his chest. A twisting in the pit of his stomach. There is something just out of reach in his mind, slipping through his fingers when he tries to grasp it. Maybe Loki is the devil.

The candle shakes, almost slipping from his unsteady hand. He closes Loki's door gently and he almost runs back to his own room. Under the covers, his door blocked by the chair, he forces himself to stay still until his body falls asleep.

He dreams in gold. But when he awakes he won't remember it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's left kudos and commented :)  
> Enjoy!

The house always feels calmer in the mornings. The sour air of the night is sucked right out of it by the sun. It makes the previous night feel like a bad dream – maybe it was.

Thor bathes only moments after waking, and despite the bathroom having no windows there’s still a lightness to it that it lacks at night. The door beside the bathroom catches his attention. He rests his hand on the knob even though he doesn't expect it to turn, and upon hearing no movement to signal Loki is about to catch him he tries it unsuccessfully.

Afterwards, dressed in a white shirt and plain slacks, he makes his way into the warm scent of fresh baked bread that envelops the first floor.

He peeks into the kitchen, Loki is already fully dressed, something baking in the stove while he cuts into a piece of meat with a cleaver. Thor's thoughts travel back to the previous night, Loki dressed in moonlight, his long bare legs against the mattress. He feels himself beginning to get hard at the thought and steps back from the kitchen door, deciding not to disturb.

One of the windows in the dining room is open, blowing in fresh, dewy air. It smells sweet, like lavender and honey whistling their way in through the trees.

Footsteps trail down the hall, then Loki steps through the dining room door with two glasses in his hands.

"Ah, I knew I heard you come downstairs," he places his own glass on the table before slinking behind Thor, bending, and placing the other glass in front of him.

Loki hovering over him makes him nervous, and warm in a way he doesn't want to acknowledge. He takes a sip from the glass to distract himself.

"You were in my room last night," Loki leans over the back of Thor's chair, gripping the armrests and looking down at him.

Thor falters, he doesn't know how Loki knows. His stomach feels ready to combust with nerves. The drink in front of him leaves a bad taste in his mouth, one that he doesn't know if its cause is recollecting last nights horrors or thoughts of Loki's body.

"No, I wasn't," his tongue feels dry, limp in his mouth as he lies.

"There’s no need to lie now," Loki says from above him.

Something about not being able to see Loki's face makes it much worse, his voice is so neutral that Thor can't tell whether he’s angry or not.

"I had an odd dream, I just wanted to check on you,"

One of Loki's hands moves up the chair to rest on Thor's shoulder.

"I hope you enjoyed what you saw," Loki's voice drops an octave, smooth like butter, sending shivers like ice dripping down Thor's spine, and fire to between his legs. "Hmm, I can see you did."

Thor forces himself to tilt his head up to meet Loki's eyes. Bright green, like emeralds. Loki's lips curl up into a smile, he leans down, close enough that his breath is hot on Thor's skin. It makes his mind grind painfully, like the gears are stuck and struggling to turn, so he doesn't think. He shuts his eyes, tilting his head up more to meet Loki's angle.

Then the heat leaves, Loki's presence draws back.

Thor blinks his eyes open. Surprised, disappointed, humiliated.

He turns back to face Loki, who's wearing a smug smirk.

"What was that?" Thor asks, his annoyance growing, but also a bit perplexed.

"Oh, were you expecting something," Loki feigns surprise. "What would that be?"

Thor can't make himself say it out loud and he knows that Loki full well knows that too. He breathes out his exasperation. The weight of his chair drags against the rug as he turns to face towards the table again. He can feel Loki behind him still, those bright green eyes boring into the back of his neck with passion.

Then without another word, Loki moves in long graceful strides to the door. He doesn't even look back. It makes Thor want to tear his hair out in annoyance or throw the glass across the room. He thinks Loki's doing the entire thing purposely. Exposing just enough of his body to walk the fine line between seductive and downright erotic. Torturing Thor with light touches. And its working. It's getting a rise out of him; it's making him interested. He’s falling right into Loki's trap and he doesn't even want to stop.

* * *

Breakfast is a silent affair. Loki has undone the top three buttons on his shirt, enticing, and Loki reaches up running his fingers over and drawing attention to his collarbones. Thor avoids Loki's gaze purposely, fixating on the food. Food is normal, a safe place to stare that Loki isn't.

A safe topic. He needs a safe topic.

"The room beside the bathroom, does it have any other pillows? The ones in the bedroom are a bit frilly and uncomfortable," Thor makes his voice as casual as possible but Loki still looks up with instantly narrowing eyes.

"What do you mean? Have you been in there?" Loki’s voice is worried, driving Thor's suspicion through the roof.

"No it's locked I just assumed it was a linen closet."

Loki seems almost relieved at that. "I don't have the key." he replies.

"You don't have it? What do you mean?" Thor is skeptical.

There's something odd about Loki. Something mysterious beyond the persona of seductivity and scathing remarks. Something dark swimming about in the deepest corners of him. He seems layered, nuanced, beyond his demeanor.

"There were a few keys missing from the ones I was given. They seem to have been lost with the sale of some of my mothers belongings." Loki waves off the question like one would brush away an irritating fly.

Not impossible, it might be a lie, but it might be the truth. Something in the way Loki's talking makes it sound true, but he can't be certain. Loki is also a masterful manipulator, and Thor has seen in mere days how Loki can wrap words around his fingers and use them with near magical precision. Thor has a feeling he would admire it much more if the ability wasn't used to often twist and tear apart his own sentences.

He settles back to his food, feeling Loki's attention unmoving.

"Will you be working on the garden again?" Loki asks after a moment.

Thor nods. "I planned to."

Loki purses his lips, then nods too.

The garden is less than a quarter cleaned up, so large and so long untended to that that it will likely take a week to clear the plants alone. The fountain and its broken pieces remain as well, but Loki hasn't mentioned them, and Thor doesn't go near touching them just in case.

He sets about pulling up some of the vines from what he assumes to have been a path at one point. Dirt cakes his knees from where he kneels, using only a small trowel and his hands to remove the plants. Some of the vines and branches are thorny, leaving trails of light scratches up his forearms, not deep enough to draw more than a drop of blood, but the sting is irritating.

He has to pull exceptionally hard to uproot one plant, disrupting the dirt around it deeply. Something light pokes out from the gap, rounded and smooth. It’s cold and solid against Thor's fingers as he wiggles it to dislodge it from the ground. Feeling the bumps of vertebrae, it takes Thor only a moment to realize it's a bone. It's small, too small for his own body by far. It could belong to a dog, or maybe a child, he hasn't seen enough human bones to tell the difference.

There's that curious, investigative, need to keep searching, but at the same time there’s the part of him that tells him it's wrong to disrupt the rest of what was likely a family pet.

Before he can decide to do anything there comes the creak of the door opening behind him, and some long-ingrained instinct tells him to hide the bone before Loki can see it. He puts it back under the dirt before Loki leans over him.

Loki's fingers are gentle but firm on his shoulder and there is something in the cold touch that sends a shiver down his spine.

"What do you want?" Thor grunts out, a bit more gruffly than he had wanted, and he hopes it doesn't sound suspicious.

"I was thinking pie to go with lunch."

Thor nods, uncertain where Loki is going with this.

"But," Loki continues. "I would have to go pick apples for it myself."

Thor is beginning to pick up on there this is headed but doesn't yet respond.

"Would you like to accompany me?" Loki asks.

Already dusting the dirt off his knees, Thor agrees.

The wan light streaming through the branches keeps the forest cool, but also gives it a damp air, the ground never getting enough sun to fully dry. The moss smells heavier here than Thor remembers it in other areas. It grows up the trees and mushes under his feet. Part of him doubts apples can possibly grow here, but in the slight clearing ahead lays a small cluster of trees holding the fruit.

It would be a nice place, a lighter haven in the forest, if not for the way the darker areas menacingly surround it. The apple trees are tall, with unnaturally thick trunks that show they've been there decades. Green apples hang from the branches. The green kinds are always sour, but fresh fruit is fresh fruit.

Picking a few is easy, most on the trees are perfectly ripe.

"How many did you need?" Thor asks after he picks three and Loki has picked two.

"For the pie this is good,"

Thor adds an extra to the small basket for himself.

"How did you find that place?" Thor asks on the way back. He looks down at the ground as he asks, watching the moss break under his feet.

He can feel Loki's eyes on him but doesn't look up, not at first. He toes at the moss as he walks with interest. The lack of bugs is a curious thing.

"I did a bit of exploring when I first arrived," Loki replies.

Thor digs and twists a heel into the moss so hard that it muddies beneath. "Thought you said the woods aren't safe," he pushes through the brush after Loki, back into the gardens.

"They aren't."

* * *

The scent of cinnamon and fresh cut apples wafts up the stairs once Thor has scrubbed the dirt from his body and clothes. A bowl of apples on the counter, Loki cleaves a batch of dough into two parts as Thor leans against the wall. Sharp cheekbones emphasized by the sunlight streaming through the windows, Loki looks like a painting.

"Tell me about your mother," Thor says. What he wants to say is 'tell me about the woman in the painting' but he can't.

Loki's hands still on the rolling pin for a moment, only the tiniest second before he continues, and the only evidence of any emotional reaction is the dent in the dough where he had pressed down too hard.

"She was," he hesitates before he speaks. "A kind woman, as bright as the sun."

"Were you close?"

Lissome fingers go rigid, blue veins on the backs of his hands seeming so close to the surface. "We were," Loki replies softly.

Somberly, Thor bows his head with a slight nod, and he watches Loki roll out the rest of the pie dough.

* * *

Sleep doesn't come as easily. In the dark heady air of the night, every shadow becomes something near sinister to look at. Thor considers opening the window, letting in some fresh air to help clear his mind. Yes, that could help.

The old window squeals like it hasn't been opened in years but the entrance of the cool night air makes it worth it. The gardens are coloured grey in the pale moonlight. From the height of the window Thor can make out something pale in the distance, looking up at the sky, maybe a plant of some kind, the wind rustles the leaves, casting shadows that cover it.

Relishing in the feel of the stale air being replaced, he draws the curtains closed. And tracing the patterns on the pillow beside him with his fingers, he falls asleep.

He finds himself somewhere light, bright sensations flooding through him. He's half-conscious that he’s dreaming. The room around him stretches on for ages, yawning windows high to the ceiling and the afternoon sun streams in. The people around him are faceless, vague, dressed in fancy gowns and formal suits. He feels lost, out of place, the party is drifting around him, its own world he's invisible in.

He makes his way over to the windows, wanting, needing to see where he is. There are gardens outside, a fountain in the middle surrounded by nightshade. But these gardens aren't overrun with vines and dilapidated from time, they are well kept, maintained pristine. Someone is out there, a blurry figure leaning over the flowers, an inkblot among the bright colors.

Thor reaches up to put his hand beside the window, wanting to get a closer look out it, but something skitters up the wall. Something dark and shadowy. He recoils back. The thing climbs higher and higher. Vaguely humanoid fingers reach out and slam the window shut.

His mind is black for the rest of the night.

Thor is relieved when the morning light streams in and the chair is still lodged under the doorknob. He sits up, stretches, and turns to close the window, only to find it already shut. It sends a chill up his spine. The wind must have blown it closed. ‘ _That's probably what caused the dream’_ , he tells himself, but he can't make himself believe it.

No human could have reached that window. ' _That's because it's not human'_ his mind supplies, a thought which he scoffs at. There is no such thing as ghosts or monsters in this world. Yet, when he washes up for the day, he can’t stop watching the door and glancing over his shoulders.

Footsteps in the hall stop outside the bathroom, a familiar gait that Thor is thankful to recognize as Loki's.

‘You look tired," is the first thing Loki says when Thor opens the door.

"Thanks," Thor grimaces.

"Not sleeping well?" Loki asks and while Thor expects the tone to be mocking its surprisingly sincere.

"Not especially."

Loki doesn't say anything, only nods sympathetically in response.

Thor passes the time before breakfast pouring all his efforts into cleaning the garden some more. He can't shake the odd feeling, it's like tar dripping down his back, cold and sticky.

His logical mind tells him it's a mere coincidence, explaining the odd events with logic. The window is rickety, and the breeze blew it shut. His dreams are mere reflections of his worries, twisted into something terrifying, but nonetheless not real.

The food isn't ready for at least an hour due to Loki having prepared scones to go with their eggs. He's dressed in something slinky and thin; the shirt is so tight it’s revealing even though it goes up to his neck.

Thor gives a little groan of appreciation when he takes his first bite of the food. "This is wonderful." he smiles. Loki is a very good cook.

"Just trying to fatten you up before I eat you," Loki smirks, a little bit menacing, but the glint in his eyes let's Thor know he’s only joking.

"You're not doing a very good job with all the manual labor you have me doing."

Loki laughs at that. "I suppose I need to feed you more to make up for it."

"I wouldn't object," Thor replies jokingly

* * *

Working in the fresh air provides the same relief for Thor as it had the previous day. The smell of damp earth and leaves rising up from below is enough to block out the smell of the old clothes and the dust inside. There's a faint breeze, not enough to keep him cool but enough to send little chills down his spine when it blows over the sweat beading at the nape of his neck. 

His mind turns aimlessly over the thoughts that have plagued him since he arrived. His investigation, how poorly that had gone. There is still yet to be any proof of anything untoward. The whole house, and forest too albeit to a lesser extent, give off a kind of bad energy. But that’s hardly proof enough to declare the place haunted. There had been rumors of people gone entirely missing, but Loki has made no move to kidnap him. Loki isn't even outside. Thor could leave without him having the slightest clue.

He doesn't leave though, not only because the walk would be long and unsafe, but because some part of him is unexplainably drawn to stay. Drawn to this place, drawn to Loki. It's not simply because he’s attracted to Loki either, or because staying is easier. It's like this place is a puzzle and he's missing only the last few pieces. It drives his weeding to become angrier. Tearing out plants down to their roots. There must be something, and he’s missing it. He hates not knowing.

Among his frustration and the frantic sounds of roots tearing through dirt he doesn't hear Loki approaching until a hand is on his shoulder. Loki's thumb kneads lightly at the muscles there, his chilled fingers emanating cold over Thor's collarbone. It shoots a little breathless shudder through him.

"My, you're tense," Loki's thumb presses a little harder, rubbing in circles over strained muscle. Thor groans, unable to make himself look up to meet Loki's eyes.

"Loki," Thor starts, but he feels his breath catch when Loki's grip tightens. "What, what are you doing?"

"You were tense," Loki says like that explains it. He pauses when Thor gasps after his fingers run over a particularly tight knot, and Thor looks up to see his mouth parted in a soft 'O' shape. "Very tense, you might need more than just this to help you relax."

Unconsciously Thor's grip slackens, limply releasing the plant he was grasping, as Loki's second hand goes to his other shoulder.

"Loki. What are you implying?" he knows, deep down, subconsciously he knows full well what Loki means. It's a whisper, but still loud enough he can't ignore it, telling him to give in.

Loki's hands cease their massage, instead traveling forwards, opting to caress the plateau of Thor's upper chest. One thumb slips under the fabric, and Thor doesn't stop it.

"I think you know," Loki toys with the hem of his shirt cloyingly. It wouldn't be bothersome, except that it sends all the blood in Thor's body to between his legs.

"And if I don't?" Thor's voice comes out more unsteady than he wants.

"I think you do, but…" Loki pauses, his lips drawing into a wide grin, a glint mischievous. "I would be open to showing you tonight,"

Thor shouldn't. The logical part of his brain gives a firm no as an answer, for many, many reasons he's turned through countless times. But the human part of his brain is awash with desire. It tells him to let go, give in to what Loki wants – what they both want. Thor has been offered no shortage of sexual favors to make up for offenses in his line of work, but Loki makes him want to give in where no one else has ever before. It's a slippery slope, if he gives in this once how much farther will he go. Would he follow Loki, sliding down into the abyss, through the gates of hell? He finds he doesn't care.

There's a hint of mania in Loki's smile, it isn't sweet or reserved, baring all of bright white teeth. Thor finds it painfully beautiful though. Painful, like he doesn't know if he wants to run his tongue over every perfect tooth or punch that grin off Loki's face.

"I'll wait in my room for you tonight," Loki whispers before his touch ghosts away.

Thor catches Loki's arm before he can leave, because he doesn't like being predictable, and in some way letting Loki walk away is like relinquishing the upper hand. He likes seeing Loki flustered too.

"What if I don't come?" Thor taunts.

Loki pulls out of his grasp suddenly, stronger than he looks. "Then it is your loss."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this into two chapters because it had waayy too much in it.

They eat separately, which unnerves Thor, for it isn't that Loki chooses not to cook. Rather, the leftovers are left on the table for Thor's picking and Loki is no where to be seen. The house groans with the wind outside and he can’t hear any movements up above.

The way the curtains hang open is disconcerting. In the candlelight the glass only reflects blackness, and Thor's own face back at him. Anything can see in and he can't see out. Something horrifying could be pressing its nose against the glass, watching. Its gaze feels like a spider on Thor's back. Slipping down under his collar, crawling over the bumps of his spine.

He closes the curtains with a glare and one strong movement. But he doesn't put his face to the glass to try and see if something's on the other side.

He contemplates his choices as he eats some of the meat. Pros and cons. The morality of it. If it's a smart decision. As if he hadn't already made up his mind the second the proposition was extended.

* * *

The floorboards creek under his nervous steps, part of him worried Loki will have changed his mind. But when he makes it up the stairs the door is open a crack, light pouring out, an invitation. Thor puts his hand against it, taking a deep breath, then he pushes the door the rest of the way open.

Loki's standing over by the window, white moonlight falling on the side of his face as he turns to look at Thor. He let's his robe slip down his shoulder, and just that little show of skin makes Thor salivate with desire, his trousers growing tighter.

"How about coming over here?" Loki's voice is smooth and sweet, washing over Thor like honey, sticky and sucking him in.

Thor's legs move without him needing to even think about it, leaving him standing less than a foot from Loki.

"Very good," Loki smirks mockingly, like he’s waiting for Thor to make a move, but also seeming to expect that Thor won't.

Thor, wanting to be unpredictable, grabs Loki with an arm around the waist, his other hand reaching up to run his thumb over Loki's bottom lip. He pulls Loki's body flush against his own, feeling Loki shudder, mouth parted, desirous.

Thor's lips curl up into a smirk, knowing he’s already won.

"May I?" he asks, pressing against Loki's lips with his thumb to make his question clear.

"My what a gentleman," Loki smiles into his touch. "Of course."

Thor tilts his head and it feels like victory when their lips meet. Loki kisses slow and languid at first, his lips parting to allow access for Thor's tongue. And Thor wants to taste everything, tongue rolling over Loki's teeth. He wants to breathe in every particle that is Loki, drink him, imbibe him like his taste is that of the finest wine. Loki moans into the kiss as Thor's hands shift down to grab his ass.

Then Loki is leading them to the bed, their mouths not separating until Loki shoves him back onto the mattress.

Looking down at Thor with lust filled eyes, Loki’s robe is pulled apart down to his waist, barely maintaining even a semblance of decency.

"I want you," Loki's hands trail down Thor's chest, down to Thor's thighs as Loki sinks down to his knees.

Fuck Thor wants him too.

Loki palms at Thor's cock through his pants, drawing a groan from deep in Thor’s throat.

"Fuck, Loki."

Loki grins up at him, green eyes bright and wicked. He unbuttons Thor's trousers, tugging Thor's length to full hardness with his bare hands. Loki's touch is like the devil, cold and hot at the same time, and oh so sinful. Thor would get on his knees and pray to him if only to have this again.

Licking his lips at the sight, Loki leans in and laps up the first drop of pre-come with his tongue. Pure sin.

"Don't worry, I like it rough," is the only warning Thor gets before Loki takes his thick length in his mouth in one fluid motion. He's surrounded nearly entirely in hot slick warmth, and the last couple inches not in Loki's mouth are covered by his hand.

Loki looks up at him with lust clouded eyes as he begins to bob up and down. He uses his tongue in all the right ways, firm pressure against the underside of Thor's cock, and then darting over the slit.

Thor resists the urge to fuck into his mouth.

Then Loki starts going faster, taking him deep enough to make his eyes water. Thor starts to reach up to grab Loki's hair, but he stops himself. The movement is noticed though, and Loki takes Thor's hand in his own to tangle it in dark locks.

"Fuck, Loki, so good," Thor groans.

Loki's tongue does that little movement again and it drives Thor wild. He’s never seen anything more beautiful than Loki on his knees for him, drool starting to run down his chin, eyes watering. Thor moves his hips a little, testing the water, not so much as to overwhelm, and Loki reacts to the movement fervently, nodding with pleading eyes.

Thor pushes Loki down deeper with a hard pull of dark hair. His length hits the back of Loki's throat, making him gag. And Loki loves it. He keens, let's Thor fuck into his throat with rough, fast motions. And Thor is quickly losing control. Only a few more thrusts and he comes undone. The wave of pleasure hits like a truck and he sees white as he comes.

Loki’s lips are swollen when he pulls off, red and slick with spit. Normally Thor would be averse to kissing anyone who’s mouth had just been on his cock, but Loki seems to be the exception. Their kisses aren’t any less passionate than before. Hearing the mantra of ‘Mine, mine, mine’ repeating in his brain, Thor skims his hand down Loki’s flat stomach until he reaches his cock. He doesn’t go slowly or sensually, instead relishing in the needy desperate noises Loki makes as he roughly moves his hand up and down his shaft. It only takes a moment for Loki to come and for some reason that makes it all the better.

Out of curiosity Thor reaches down to the wet spot on his stomach, swiping up some of the white liquid on his fingertips, and he brings them to his mouth. It’s salty and bitter but the fact it came from inside Loki somehow makes it sweet.

He wipes himself with a small towel and lays back in the bed, hoping he’ll be allowed to stay. Loki pulls the covers back, motioning for Thor to slide beneath them.

“Goodnight,” Loki whispers, and only then does Thor realize how long they’ve gone without talking. They fit so well together, like two pieces of a puzzle. Wordlessly they had moved in sync.

Thor smiles and whispers, “Goodnight,”

Tucking him in, Thor feels the chill of Loki’s fingertips on his bare shoulder. Sometimes his hands are so chilled Thor wonders if his very blood runs cold and blue like a reptile. He only now knows it doesn't, for Loki’s non-extremities aren't as freezing to touch.

Loki doesn’t get in the bed with him. Patting Thor gently on the shoulder, he grabs a book off the nightstand. He sits in a chair on the other side of the bed, crossing his legs, and his robe swishes around his ankles. The sounds of pages turning is calming, like the sounds of waves in the ocean. And Thor senses the impending approach of sleep.

At some point in the night he feels the dip on the other side of the mattress.

* * *

The space around him is fraught with viscous air, dark, misting so heavily he can't see to the end of the hall.

_Where am I?_

There is a door in front of him, tall dark wood, the handle covered in dust. He puts his hand up to it, resting it against the solid spruce. Something pushes back. Scratching on the other side rasps like nails on a chalkboard. The door shakes in its frame. The small lock on it is the only thing holding it shut.

Thor staggers back, but the scratching doesn't stop. It only grows angrier. More frantic. The sounds of wood splintering.

There comes the lurch of the door snapping open and Thor wakes in a panic.

Momentarily he forgets where he is, the room is unfamiliar, and he jolts upright in the bed. Loki's bedroom, he breathes in relief when he realizes, but Loki isn't next to him. Thor's heart nearly sinks into his stomach before he finds him. Loki is standing, complacent, staring out into the moonlight, his lips pursed into a thin line. He's lost in thought, or maybe he’s looking for something out there.

"Loki?" Thor's voice crawls out a thick rasp.

Loki's head shoots up to look at him, his expression softening slightly.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"I had an odd dream,"

Loki looks over him with understanding, approaching the bed slowly before he rests his hand gently on Thor's shoulder. He strokes Thor's skin with his thumb, soft and slow.

"It’s alright, shall we go back to sleep?" Loki's tone is soothing like a lullaby, easing Thor into a sense of security.

Thor feels the dip in the mattress before his mind registers Loki is climbing back in. Loki is laying down and he feels himself being lulled to lay down too. Lithe fingers are feeling their way through his hair, slowly like his mother used to do.

"It's alright now," Loki's voice is a whisper, near indistinguishable from the undercurrent of Thor's mind.

Thor's eyes flutter shut, unable to keep them open, exhaustion washing over him.

"It was only a dream."

The words around him are becoming an incomprehensible garble, floating sounds in a faint voice as he drifts back to a black sleep.

"There's nothing here but us."

* * *

Thor wakes to find Loki still asleep in his arms. He is most beautiful like this, guarded expression completely fallen away, peaceful. Thor presses a soft kiss between his brows.

It is a shame that Thor will have to leave him in only a few short days and return home. Home. In less than a week Thor's life before has begun to feel like a distant memory. Time here feels different. Maybe it's being so far from society, or maybe it's the odd atmosphere of the house itself, but trying to grasp onto memories of home is like trying to reach out for something vague and shapeless.

He tries to think of work. Steve Rogers who sits at the desk beside his with his short blonde hair and unstoppable righteousness. Or Fandral, Thor's best friend since childhood, who hadn't wanted to work as a constable but enjoyed the perks with women that being a man in uniform brought him. All the memories feel like a painting, one with thick rushed brushstrokes, the lines blurring together and yet disconnected all the same.

Thor puts his hand on Loki's bare chest just to feel something. The touch of skin on skin fresh, warm, purifying.

Loki shifts, his eyes fluttering open, crisp green irises.

The tension is balmy, fraught with the precipice of unfallen rain.

He pulls Loki into his chest. This moment is clear, and Thor has learned to take what he can get.

"You oaf, what are you doing?" Loki chokes out.

"Holding you," Thor replies, not letting go as Loki begins to squirm in his arms.

"Crushing is the correct word," Loki manages to slip from his arms with a sigh.

The first drops of rain are starting to fall outside, Thor can hear their strikes against the roof.

Loki extricates himself from the bed. Re-tying his robe shut properly and running his hands over the wrinkles so it looks clandestine before he looks out the window.

"Rain, wonderful," Loki's tone is sarcastic, irritated.

Thor pulls himself out from under the covers too, ignoring the tired aches in his body as he stands.

"Rain is a lovely thing, good for the plants,"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Yes, the plants that I'm trying to get rid of."

Thor puts his hand on Loki's back, feeling the tense muscles through the robe. He kneads Loki's shoulder in a way that makes him go pliant under his touch. He's so strung up. Thor realizes then that its probably been a lot for him, losing his mother, moving to this strange place. Thor probably hasn't helped that, he doesn't do much for Loki above the bare minimum.

He has an idea.

"I believe I'll make breakfast today, if that's alright?" he says.

Loki looks up at him with wide eyes, but he doesn't object.

Thor is unable to resist smiling. "I'll go wash up for the day, then I'll make you something. Get some more rest,"

* * *

Thor doesn't notice it until after he’s finished cooking, as he carries the tray from the kitchen to the dining room. The gun, his gun, which had sat on the shelf the previous night, is no longer there. He looks around the floor around it, maybe it got knocked off when they put the tools away yesterday, but it's no where in sight.

Loki could have taken it. But it didn't make sense. Loki stayed in the bedroom the whole previous night. Loki must have it though, there is no other explanation. There is no one else in the house, and there is no such thing as ghosts. Loki has the gun. He must have moved it for safe keeping. He wouldn't plan to use it would he?

Thor stops the frantic train of thought.

He just needs to ask.

"Loki," he calls into the dining room.

"What is it?" Loki shouts back.

"Come out here."

He hears the scuff of a chair against the ground and then Loki's footsteps towards the hall.

"What?" Loki asks from his place in the doorway.

"My gun," Thor glances at the empty place on the shelf and Loki's gaze follows. "Where did you put it?"

Loki mouth falls open, an expression of panic flashing through his features.

"I didn't touch your gun."

The answer Thor was dreading. A heavy, sick feeling sinks to the pit of his stomach in a lump.

"It’s alright if you did," he offers. "I don't care that much, I'll just need it back when I'm leaving."

Loki shakes his head. "No, Thor, you must have taken it."

Thor frowns, making something horrible flash through Loki's eyes, dread and fear and anger all at once. He places a hand on Loki's arm to placate him, but Loki shrugs out of his grasp.

"Maybe we should talk after we eat," Thor grumbles.

"I agree," Loki purses his lips, turns on his heels back into the dining room.

The food tastes like nothing, only making Thor's stomach tighten a bit more with each bite as his patience runs thin. There’s only two of them in the house, one of them had to have taken the gun, and Thor knows he didn't, so by process of elimination Loki must have it.

"This is good," Loki says poking his fork into the potatoes.

He looks so calm now, so at ease as he eats. That's the moment Thor's thin thread of patience snaps. He's unable to wait until they finish their meal.

"There’s two of us here. One of us has to have the gun,"

Loki looks up from his plate. "Or the ghost took it," he gently rests his fork on the edge of the plate.

"Oh of course," Thor laughs but there’s an uneasy edge to it. Loki looks almost guilty and Thor's voice turns cold. "Loki, where is it?"

"Like I said, I don't have it."

Loki looks him directly in the eye and Thor can't tell if he’s a talented liar or if he’s telling the truth.

"There’s ghosts here, the whole house is haunted." Loki continues, his words waving in Thor's face what he didn't want to accept.

Thor grips the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles whiten before he even notices. "Impossible. Ghosts aren't real."

Loki surveys him with that blank expression, and Thor hates it right now.

"You've been hearing things too, haven't you?" Loki asks, but he doesn't give time to answer before continuing. "Screams in the night, shadows that shouldn't be there, footsteps with no owner."

Anger bubbles inside him. Loki knew. All this time he knew and didn't say anything.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I needed you to stay, until the transport arrives. It was never for supplies, I'm leaving too." Loki continues. "I couldn't stay another night by myself in this house."

Thor thought he was going mad, the noises and the dreams, he had thought it was all in his head. Loki let him think he was going crazy. He could hit him. He wouldn't, but he could.

Loki's eyes dart towards the door, a nervous edge in them. Thor grabs him by the collar, roughly holding him in place.

"To be fair, I didn't think you were affected," Loki raises his hands in surrender and Thor let's go of his shirt. "I thought I was just going insane from the solitude."

Thor regards him for a second, suspicious, steel eyed.

"Fine," he says eventually, and he leans back into his own chair, giving Loki the space to nervously fix his collar. "Now that we know we're not insane-"

Loki cuts him off. "Or we're both insane."

"Shut up," Thor's grimace is met with a mildly amused smirk. He continues once it is apparent Loki won’t interject another unnecessary opinion. “We need to do something about this ghost.”

“I disagree,” Loki replies.

With a heavy sigh, Thor asks “Why?”

“I’m not an exorcist, and last I checked you can’t kill something that’s already dead with a gun. Although the gun is missing anyways,” Loki crosses his legs, reclining back in such a casual way that Thor finds it offensive. One should not be able to sit in such a lazed way in these circumstances, almost luxuriating amongst everything.

“Loki. Take this seriously.”

“I am. I have accepted that the place is haunted and that I need to leave.”

Thor pushes his chair back from the table. Trying to eat anything tastes like ash, and he gives up on finishing his plate. The discordant emotions are an overwhelming flood and Loki is doing everything except helping that. His fingers twitch and he needs to do something with them to make it cease. He chases the urge to go to the garden and excuses himself from the table.

The place where he found the bone the previous day has blended into the disrupted dirt around it. But Thor will dig up the entire garden if he needs to. With a small trowel he starts where he thinks the hole had been. If digging up and properly burying the bones could be what it takes to get rid of the ghost, he will try for days to find every piece.

The dirt is damp from the earlier rain and mud cakes his fingers and knees as he digs. Not finding the bone where he sifts through first, he continues. Hours pass without him knowing the time and at some point, it begins to rain again. Soaked through all layers of his clothing, his hair dripping water down his forehead. He digs and shifts through the entire area that he worked in the previous day. Whatever calmness he thought he would gain from this, whatever vindication he thought to earn, is to no avail.

He finds nothing.

A part of him wonders if there had been anything to find at all.

On his back, disregarding the mud beneath him. The sky peaking through the trees is grey and dull, with so many clouds he cannot locate the sun at all. _Why this? Why me?_ He asks and waits for answers that do not come. He does not know how long he lays there for, until the rain stops, and he shivers at how his shirt clings damply to his stomach.

He bathes after, and jams the door shut with his muddy clothes as if that will protect him from something omnipresent.

Loki cooks something with a smell so strong it leaves a sickly-sweet aftertaste in Thor’s mouth.

“Are you afraid?” Loki asks during their meal.

“No.”

Muddled, disconcerted, vexed, maybe, but not afraid.

Loki shrugs as if it doesn’t matter one way or the other.

Despite not being afraid, Thor cannot deny the disquiet in his soul that comes from the house. Shadows begin to creep up the walls and they have to light the candles for the night.

A twisting curling sensation works its way through Thor’s stomach, landing in the pit of it and staying there as he leads Loki up the stairs. The atmosphere thicker than ever, murky like bog water floating in the air. As they reach the third floor it is so thick Thor can smell it and it leaves a filmy texture on his tongue when he tries to breathe through his mouth.

The usually locked door is swung wide open – a looming pit of black the candlelight cannot cut through. There is a musty smell in the air, the stench of something rotting, maybe old food or the furniture after god knows how long without use.

An ominous silence. The door taunting, daring Thor to enter. His hand hovers over the place on his belt where his gun would usually be.

Loki's gaze is questioning, laced with concern.

"I should go in," Thor grunts.

Loki's eyes widen just the slightest bit. "I wouldn't."

"We have to see what's in there,"

"No. You have to see what's in there." Loki corrects. "I think whatever's in there can have that room. It can have the whole fucking house."

Thor shifts his weight back and forth between his feet. He should check, but its tempting to agree with Loki. Loki's warm hand reaching up to grab his shoulder makes his mind up for him.

"Check in the morning," Loki says. "When at least you can see better."

"Alright," Thor replies.

Thor turns to the bedroom door instead, unable to stop himself from sparing a glance back to the open door. The misshapen forms inside are slack and still on the ground, too far back from the light to identify.

"Maybe that's where the bodies of its victims are," Loki breathes.

Thor shoots him a furious glare as he pushes the bedroom door open, and Loki only shrugs in response.

Loki enters first, leaving Thor to glare out at the empty hall as if the ghost is out there and would be frightened. Thor casts one last look in the direction of the dark room.

"Nothing comes in here," his tone is practically a growl and he closes the door hard behind him.

He ignores Loki's quizzical look as he sits on the bed, and for a moment they sit in silence. The background groans and creaks that the house gives are enough to set Thor’s nerves aflame. His back is straight, taut like the string of a bow. Unclenching, and clenching his fist again in front of him, he thinks over the events in the house since his arrival.

"Loki, lock the door," he says after a moment.

"Its a ghost. The door is only stopping us from getting out if I lock it."

"Maybe it's an animal."

"Yes, an animal that steals your gun and no food,"

"Just lock the door,"

"I already told you it's not keeping the ghost out if I do," Loki argues but does it anyways

Eventually, Thor lays under the comforters. The door is the enemy, in lieu of the real one. He stares at it for what must be hours, with the orchestra of his heartbeat and the scraping branches against the second-floor windows as his backdrop. His body gives in to sleep at some point, although for most of the night it hovers at a point in between. A battle between the need to sleep and the need to face his tormentor.

Thor watches as dawn rises over the horizon. The rise of the last day before they will at last be able to get out of this creepy house. His head aches from the subpar sleep, but it's nothing worse than when he was healing from his riding accident.

Loki is still sleeping soundly. The knowledge of the ghost hadn't seemed to affect his ability to sleep at all, but he is the one who lived here longer so it's only fair. For a moment Thor just looks over his sleeping form. The heavy rise and fall of his chest. The fluttery movement of his eyeballs beneath thin eyelids, almost like butterfly wings.

The floor creaks like a warning as Thor stands but Loki doesn't stir. Maybe if he goes quietly enough, he can check out the room before Loki is even awake.

In the morning light nothing feels as scary.

He creeps towards the door, only a few steps away when one of the floorboards gives a sharp groan. Loki shifts, his eyes blinking open, gaze flitting around the room until it settles on Thor.

"What are you doing?" Loki's voice turns sharp, suspicious.

Thor considers lying for a moment but decides against it.

"I was going to check out the room," he says.

Loki's green eyes regard him cautiously, as if he's reading his every minuscule movement.

"Let me dress first, so if something frightening is in there I don't get chased into the garden without anything on,"

"You're coming too?"

Loki let's out a sharp snort of a laugh, as if he’s admonished at even the suggestion he would go in there. Thor gives a nod in response, shifting his weight back and forth while waiting for Loki to finish buttoning his shirt and lacing up a pair of trousers.

Loki's jaw is hard set, tense. He doesn't even look at Thor, turns his gaze to stare blankly out the window.

"Go," Loki says with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

With a deep breath Thor opens the door into the hall. He can feel the piercing heat of Loki's stare on the back of his neck, intense and burning, and he shuts the door most of the way behind him. He glances to the end of the hall, to the empty looming space where the staircase resides and seeing nothing, he turns his attention to the room ahead.

With every step his fists seem to tighten. The peculiar musty smell in the room hangs heavily overhead. Thor squares his shoulders.

There is no carpet inside and each hit of boot against the floor echoes back.

There comes a strike of panic when he sees the bed up close. The sound of blood rushing past his ears. His hands clenched in a near painful grasp.

The covers on the bed are bunched in the middle. Moth bitten at the edges, and permeating with the stench of sulfur. Touching them leaves a dusty residue on Thor's fingers. Sparing a glance over his shoulder he makes sure no one's behind him before he grabs the corner of the blanket in his fist. In one yank he pulls it off.

The mattress underneath is mottled with black spots and holes, mold rotting through the material. The center of it sinks down between the bars of the bed frame.

Little else remains in the room, everything decrepit with disuse.

He exits the room and by force of habit he checks the end of the hall.

There is a flash of something there – almost like a human hand, but it's gone the second he blinks.

Panic shoots through him, then of anger. Whatever that was he’s going after it. His first few steps are a fast-paced walk, but they quickly break into a run.

It's not on the stairs anymore when he gets to them and he stalls at the end of the second-floor hallway. It could be anywhere. He listens for the sound of movement anywhere on the floor. Silence.

Eyes darting left and right, he makes his way down to the first floor. The mansion's groans under his feet make it hard to distinguish between his noises and those of something else out there.  
Whatever it is it hasn't left the house, at least not through the door, which remains shut and locked at the end of the downstairs hall.

Thor peers into the kitchen first, it being the room with the most hiding spots on the floor, then the dining room, followed by the sitting room. He comes up empty, nothing so much as having moved from the previous night.

There is a seed of doubt growing in his mind – that he possibly didn't see anything at all. For some reason that idea is worse.

He takes a kitchen knife, the big sharp one used for cutting through meat. He checks the second floor with a newfound resolve to find something, anything. And whatever it is, he's going to kill it.

He doesn't tread carefully in the library. Whatever it is can know exactly where he is, he isn't scared of it. Thor Odinson has never met anything he couldn't kill with his own two hands and this ghost isn't getting the best of him either.

He checks the guest bedroom with a taunt, slamming the door when there’s nothing in there. Finding the bathroom and other bedroom empty as well leaves him standing in front of the single remaining locked door in the house. He tries the knob with a violent shake but it doesn't budge.

A hand on his shoulder causes him to jerk around, knife raised.

It's only Loki though, looking a bit surprised but not frightened.

"Oh, trying out a new kink, are we?" Loki raises an eyebrow, nodding his head towards the knife.

"No," Thor's voice comes out gruffer than he wants but he's angry and Loki is doing the opposite of helping. "I saw something in the hall upstairs,"

"Is it in there now?" Loki waves a hand in the direction of the locked door.

"I don't know."

"Then let’s put that down," Loki says, something piercing present in his voice, sharper than the knife’s blade.

"Why?" Thor questions.

"Its my house and I am inclined to want my doors to remain intact. I doubt they matter to the ghost anyways."

"I need to see what's behind that door."

Loki's eyes gleam, emerald, a flash of something fiery as he looks up at Thor. "Let’s discuss it over breakfast."


End file.
